


Your Ultimatum Sucks

by solshines



Series: This Place is a Fucking Nightmare [2]
Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, it's not that serious though, some unf near the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solshines/pseuds/solshines
Summary: Trent demands the kind of honesty that Kirby finds tough to offer.





	Your Ultimatum Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> Now with more editing lmao

“Your ultimatum sucks, man.” Kirby said it quietly enough that it was intimate, but with enough heart that Trent oughta know -- he meant it. “I don’t understand why we can’t just be quiet about it. It’s worked for us so far. No one knows.”

“Jimmy Hopkins knows.”

“Shut the fuck up, _no he doesn’t!_ ” Kirby drew the bill of his cap impossibly lower. All he could see past it was Trent’s mouth. Half-parted. Bottom lip drawn between his teeth. And, oh _shit,_ just that look alone made Kirby light up like Christmas, all. The way. Down there. His whole throat closed up as he was trying to swallow. Words existed somewhere, sometime, but suddenly, he was pretty sure he didn’t know any of them.

Watching Trent pull his shake over, and sip out of the straw, what a fucking metaphor. Teenage hormones made stupid ass connections. And Kirby had fantasized enough about that shit to have a play by play of what it might look like. Even if they hadn't exactly done that yet, he had a chalk board set up in his head. He was an X, and Trent was an O.

“Don't you remember when he caught us at the movies?” _Yeah, unfortunately._ “Just ‘cause he didn’t say anything about it doesn’t mean he didn’t see.”

Kirby reached out and grabbed the shake, sliding it towards him. Something to distract him a little; but, all lee oop, Trent snatched it right the fuck on back. Kirby sat back up against the booth, and squinted at him. Not quite a glare.

“No way.” Trent warned, enunciating he meant business by motioning with a fry from his basket. “No more of this kinda stuff until you can admit it. No more sharing until you really wanna share. I’m done sneakin' around, and lying to everybody, and pretending like I don’t have dreams about you that make me wet my shorts.” But he didn’t keep it down low. Kirby ducked slightly into the booth again. The hat helped him escape a second time.

His blonde boy gave a short, pissy sigh out through his nose. “You said one time that you, you know, _love me_ , remember? Don’t you _want_ to tell everyone about the shit we feel for one another?” When Kirby didn’t dare produce an answer, Trent threw the fry in his mouth, and plucked another from the basket in the center of the table.

And pulled the basket towards himself.

“ _Do_ you love me?” Another ultimatum.

“You _know_ I do, you jerkwad.” He admitted it just fine, right there. What was the big fucking deal? “Don’t I kiss you and shit? We’ve been to second base like, _six times._ Would I do that with someone I didn’t feel ultra nuts about?” A fry was his anyway, he claimed it when Trent’s guard was down, and popped it right in to chew. “I know we haven’t gone all the way, but …”

“It's got nothing to do with going _all the way, dillweed_.” And he slid the basket further away from Kirby’s reach, looking at him like he didn’t deserve it. Not for one second. “I wanna go _all the way_ with our relationship. Do it, right now.”

Leaning back in his seat, he motioned all around him. The diner was filled with Bullworth’s usuals -- crooks, a handful of twerpy students, Galloway trying to chase his Saturday hangover off with a whole fuckin’ pot of coffee to himself. Kirby looked at all their faces, and saw people laughing. Picking on him because he was small, and skinny, and yeah, he happened to wanna kiss a guy every now and again.

Not just _any_ guy, though.

But his lips were sealed up tight.

“See?” Trent told him, digging out his wallet from his pocket. “If you don’t wanna admit you like dudes, then whatever. I’m not making it my business, though. I wanna bring you home for dinner, and hold your fucking hand in the hallway, and like, kiss you before you run off to the field, and I hit the auditorium.”

Kirby watched him carefully count out bills for the shake, and the fries. Plus a tip. Trent always tipped big -- his mom worked as a waitress. Kirby always tipped big too, because Trent always talked about how bad his mom was treated. And that just wasn’t right. And because he really liked Trent, so the shit that made him worry made Kirby worry too. _Fuck._ Couldn’t he just see how much he mattered to Kirby? Or how hard this was this was?

“I don’t wanna stay with you if you wanna keep our relationship a secret. I guess we could call it um.. what the fuck's it called?” One, two, three fives on the table, before did a little boot scoot out from behind the booth. “Irreconcilable differences. When Rhonda comes over, tell her she can keep the change. And I guess you can have the food.”

Kirby wanted to give chase, and like, he was a lot faster a runner than Trent. There was no way he'd lose a guy that tall in a crowd either, that was, if he decided to go after him. Funny, how he was still sitting there, hood up and cap kinda down, looking at half drank chocolate shake, and barely touched basket of cheese fries, not wanting anything more than for Trent to just _come back himself._ Yell  _psyche!_ and they could get on with it.

If he'd known it was  _Do it or we'll break up ..._  

Fuck. Maybe he still would have chickened out. What a fucking loser.

Alright. He pulled the shake over, and sucked the rest of it down way too fast. Brain freeze matched his heart ache. Trent would have told him that was a stupid thing to even think. And the longer Kirby waited in their usual booth, the more sad people he watched float in and out of the Bull’s Horns Roadside Diner, and as it turned out, he fucking fit in with them too.

Eventually, Kirby started picking at the fries. Rhonda changed shifts with some other girl; both of them had red hair. Neither of them told him to leave either, which meant both of them were nice enough to see something was messed up. He tried not to make it too obvious that he was crying in his cheese fries.

From four pm to six pm, he watched the snow fall outside. Old people scurrying along in big coats that looked perfect for stealing shit, adults with dogs pissed off to be outside in the weather, and a handful of Bullworth students starting all out wars with one another, and not just with snowballs. Eventually, the busy street started to die down, along with the sunshine. Kirby paid for the fries and shake, ordered a fucking latte instead, because Ted wasn’t around to give him a rough time for ordering a girly drink.

It wasn’t like he was Petey Kowalski -- he could still sip a latte and pound nerds into dust.

He could still wanna suck a dick and pound nerds into dust, too. Considering that’s what he did every day, right? It wouldn’t change him to give Trent what he wanted. He’d still be the same Kirby. Still fucking stellar at track, and baseball -- still could have been quarterback. Still the smallest kid, but the grittiest, too. Still a fucking MVP.

“You look like you’re having a really, _really_ intense argument with someone in your head, dude.” The second redhead stood next to his table. She kicked him right out of fantasy land; he sat up and peered over the back of the booth to get his bearings on what time it was. There was only one other guy in the diner, flipping newspaper pages. Like he was a fucking movie extra.

“Yeah.” He told her, offering his coffee cup to be filled by the hot pot in her hand while settling back in. “You know when they say you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place? That’s such real shit.”

She looked about the right age to be going to school with him at Bullworth, but he’d remember if he saw her skulking around in her three-inch platforms. Maybe letting her in on it would be okay, because she didn’t know who he was; at the end of the day, she was safe. He’d hit the jackpot if she was one of those tough but wise types.

She kinda seemed to sense it, because as soon as he started turning it over in his head, she set the coffee down on the edge of the table, and slid into the booth across from him. The man reading the newspaper didn’t even look up, just sipped his own mug, and turned to the funnies. Every once in a while, he snorted a quick laugh.

“Tell me about your hardships, kid.” Kirby squinted at her -- _kid?_ “I’m a guru at making rash decisions, and if you’re having a hard time making a decision at all, maybe that’s what you need.”

Through his nose, he heaved a doozy of a sigh. Took his coffee cup, and warmed his hands on the outside of the mug, through his Bullworth pullover. “I wouldn't even know where to fucking start.”

Her grin was crooked when she threw her arms out in a shrug. “At the beginning, of course. Do I look like I’m busy?”


End file.
